The pyrit ship was tossed upon the main;A mighty wave broke o'er the Captain's head -And this the Bosun thought exceeding strange,For at the time the Captain was in bed."My Capting!" cried the Bosun, full of woe,"Be ye still in there?" When he brought a lampThe Captain was alive and hearty, thoughHis gyint hat were looking rather damp.

"The mizzen-stays be gone," a seaman roared,"The futtock shrouds be buggered, and the worstIs that Big Brenda's fallen overboard.""Damn!" said the Captain, "this ship be accurst!A pyrit crew's no use without a whore!Black Bart, get in that barrel 'fore I burst."

It be due ter the loverly Pieces that we 'ave these shanties ter sing of a noight with our crews. 'Ere be another one fer ye all ter henjoy:-

Down at the English cove one evenin' I were thereWhen I 'eard a poirate shoutin' underneath thee middenmast

I be 'avin' a loverly bunch o' doubloonsThere they be all layin' in a poileBig ones, small ones, some as big as yer 'eadGive 'em a twist a flick o' thee wristThat be what thee poirate saidI be 'avin' a loverly bunch o' doubloonsEvery one ye pillage will make ye richThere stands me wench, the idol o' me loifeSinging roll spaghetti a meatball a point o' grogRoll spaghetti a meatball a point o' grogRoll spaghetti a meatball a point o' grogRoll spaghetti a meatball, roll spaghetti a meatballSingin' roll spaghetti a meatball a point o' grogI be 'avin' a loverly bunch o' doubloons (they’re lovely)There they be all layin' in a poile (one, two, three, er twelvety)Big ones, small ones, some as big as yer 'ead (an' bigger)Give 'em a twist a flick o' thee wristThat be what thee poirate saidI be 'avin' a loverly bunch o' doubloonsEvery one ye pillage will make ye richThere stands me wench, the idol o' me loifeSingin' roll spaghetti a meatball a point o' grog (all together now)Roll spaghetti a meatball a point o' grog (harmony)Roll spaghetti a meatball a point o' grogRoll spaghetti a meatball a point o' grogSingin' roll spaghetti a meatball a point o' grog

Roland Deschain - Half prophet, half gunslinger, all Pastafarian!

"Since Alexander Pearce escaped, over 250 people have disappeared in the Tasmanian wilderness. No remains have ever been found." - Dying Breed

Oh terrible tragedy at the reservoir in Helensburgh,And at the news the people did gather from near and far,To see that the infrastructure had started to crumble away,Much in the manner of the railway bridge across the silvery Tay.

The reservoir at Helensburgh was built in the nineteenth century,And at the time it performed all the services that its designers wished to see,But after the passing of nearly two hundred years, and the growth in size of the town,We now get our water from Loch Lomond, and the reservoir has been allowed to fall down.

Nowadays only fishermen and dog walkers use the reservoir and its footpaths,And also the local teenagers drinking cider, smoking cigarettes and having laughs,If you want to fish in the reservoir, from the bait 'n' tackle shop you need to buy a permit,And if you walk your dog there, you need to take plastic bags to pick up after it.

It is a shame to see the heritage of the town fall into such disrepair,And the local paper will be full of letters from people expressing their despair,However none of the lazy bastards will lift a finger or pay to put it right,So it will eventually fall into the water, and that will be all. Good night.

"I don't mean to sound bitter, cynical or cruel; but I am, so that's how it comes out." ~ Bill Hicks."To argue with a person who has renounced reason is like administering medicine to the dead." ~ Thomas Paine."One should not believe everything one reads on the internet." ~ Abraham Lincoln."I linked the number of MPs to the number of votes. If you'd done a real Science degree you'd understand sticking to the point." ~ daftbeaker.

I am inspired to invoke my own countryman's poetry for a much happier story...the refurbishment of The Patti Pavilion in Swansea:

Holy Patti Pavilion

OOut of a crumbling edificeWhen the municipal funds made move to smoothThe curling tiled roofAnd ruin and his causesFrom the sea with winds of rustAnd sweeping sands of timeBe held at bay with lots of cashNew glazed restaurant With views of the seaRise up to meet my amazed eyeAnd I am struck as dumb as a holy monk by the sun

NoLet us not forget that voice of long agoPraise for Madame Patti's gift to allOut of the woebegone rustIs risen an edifice of shiny glass and tinAn Indian restaurant concealed withinAnd concert hall fit for KingsWhere once an empty silence rang with doomThe hall of Patti now has more roomFor diners, singers and their kidsTo come from far and wide to see the seaAnd hear the sounds of angels

Black (Dylan) Bart

(after "Holy spring" by Dylan Thomas)

The smoke wafted gently in the breeze across the poop deck and all seemed right in the world.